


Watching Her Scream

by Arisprite



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s02e03 Ice Pick, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 07:06:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1295929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arisprite/pseuds/Arisprite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles had been having pretty much a perfect night, and was even considering asking Lydia out for real after this-not as a tagalong to Allison and Scott's date, even though ice skating had been his idea. Then, Lydia started screaming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watching Her Scream

They’d been having a good time. In fact, it had been pretty much a perfect night, and Stiles had been entertaining the much-more-possible possibility that he might get to ask Lydia out. Like for real, and not like the fake double date of tonight, where Lydia only came because Allison invited her. Lydia even looked like she was having fun, smiling as she spun on the ice. God, she looked beautiful with her hair flying out, and her green dress twirling. Stiles had stood and watched with his jaw hanging the first time. She'd smiled flirtatiously, flipped her hair, and took his hand. And they were still laughing with each other, skating in and out of reach, and racing around the center of the empty rink, since Allison had dragged Scott off the ice (he was truly abysmal). Yes, Stiles thought he was justified in thinking that tonight was going well.

Up until Lydia's momentum slowed, and she came to a stand still in the middle of the ice. At first, Stiles thought she was looking for Allison, but her eyes were fixed on the ground. Her brow furrowed slightly, and Stiles slid over closer to her, coming to a clumsy stop.

“Lydia? What are you looking at?” He asked, looking at the spot she was frowning at. There was nothing there but flat ice. Her face was eerily blank, and Stiles felt a frisson of worry shiver through him. “Lydia?”

She didn't respond to his voice at all, not a twitch or a glance. Instead, Lydia stooped and put two fingers to the ice, as if she was lifting something small up between them. She stood, and brought her hand to eye level. Stiles was starting to get alarmed, and he glanced back and forth across the ice, wishing that Scott and Allison would come back. Lydia carefully examined the nothing that was in her fingers, and then resumed skating, moving slowly forward in a straight line.

“Lydia? Are you okay, cause there is literally nothing in your hands...and you're staring pretty creepily. Okay, where are you going?”

She was ignoring-or couldn't hear him- still, looking towards the ground. Stiles followed after her, hovering his hands over her arm. Should he grab her, try to get her attention, or let...whatever this was, run its course. She was recently traumatized, after all. Heaven knew, he still woke with a pounding heart and dry mouth after dreaming about Peter's cold eyes, and Lydia's body bloody on the turf of the field.

“Lydia, look at me, okay. Whatever you're seeing, it's not real. Okay?” Stiles reached out and made contact with her sleeve. He tugged gently, but she didn't notice. Instead, she suddenly knelt, and bent over, staring at the ice. Her breathing was coming a little faster. 

Stiles got down beside her, his knees cold through his jeans almost immediately. Lydia was definitely tripping out big time, and Stiles had to push down a wave of anxiety.

“Lydia, please, c'mon Lydia.” Stiles gave up the gentleness, shaking her arm roughly. Nothing made her look up. She leaned forward, closer than ever to the ice, like she wanted to fall right through it. With one hand, she wiped a clear spot, like the ice was a foggy mirror.

Whatever she saw was worse than before. Her body stiffened, and what Stiles could see of her face went white. Then, with a heaving, shaky breath, she filled her lungs. Then, she screamed.

Even watching all the lead up, the shock rushed through Stiles, and for a moment, he didn't know what to do. Then, he jolted into movement, putting his arms around Lydia's back, grabbing her arms, and trying to pull her away from the hallucination.

“Lydia,” He whispered, soundless under her continued screaming. She wouldn't move. She shook in his arms, pulling against him, and pulling in sobs in between the noise.

“Oh, god, what do I do?” He muttered, trying to get a better grip, holding her against his side, as if he were keeping her from flying apart. “Lydia! Lydia, c'mon!”

She wouldn't stop screaming.

There was a clatter from the edge of the ice, and she saw Scott and Allison come running into the rink area. He looked up helplessly, still trying to hold on to Lydia. They were both wearing shoes now, and so jogged out over the ice towards the two of them in the middle. Just at that moment, Lydia gasped, and went limp in his grasp.

“Lydia?” He shifted his hands on her arms, not wanting her to feel restrained now that she wasn't actively freaking out.

“Stiles?” She whispered, her voice wreaked, trembling. She lifted her head, and Stiles' heart broke a little to see her terrified face, and mascara streaked around her wet eyes.

“Yeah,” He nodded, “You okay?”

He only realized that her face had been so open and childlike when the mask came down, and she pulled away from him. Sniffling, she wiped at her face with gloved hands, and visibly drew herself together.

“Of course,” She replied, her voice still high, warbly. Stiles put his suddenly empty hands down in his lap, his stomach twisting in confusion and worry. She brushed her shaking hands over her dress, resting briefly against her side, where she'd been bitten just weeks ago. He suddenly wondered how much of that night she remembered, what she knew about Peter? If she'd been jumped without seeing him, or if he'd taunted her? Knowing Peter...he felt sick.

Scott and Allison reached them at that moment, with Allison putting her arm around Lydia and drawing her to her feet, and Scott helping Stiles up. The girls shuffled off, Lydia almost as tall as Allison in her skates, while Allison was wearing shoes, and Scott much shorter than usual beside him. Scott leaned close, and met his eyes with a worried gaze-which seemed to be his default lately.

“What happened?”

Stiles shrugged, watching Lydia. Gone was the confident skater goddess from before-she looked shaky, and Allison threw a glance back.

“I'm going to take her home.” She mouthed at them, and then they were off the ice.

“I dunno, man.” Stiles said, answering Scott's question. “She stopped, and stared at the ice for a while. I don't know what she was seeing, but then she just...started screaming. You heard her.”

Scott frowned deeper, looking towards where Lydia had disappeared.

Stiles frowned too, and shoved his hands into his pockets. There was a special kind of uselessness, watching your friend have a meltdown, and not even being able to pull them out of it. Anxiety about Lydia, and the whole situation lately (which he'd been successfully ignoring this evening, thank you) rose in his stomach.

“I wonder what she saw?” Scott murmured. Stiles grimaced, and flashed again to Peter's eyes, and the blood on silvery fabric.

“Something awful.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've fallen completely in love Teen Wolf and the characters, and this happened.


End file.
